


Brief Interlude

by Hisstah



Series: Secrets and Revelations [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 03:23:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5650750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hisstah/pseuds/Hisstah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dealing with three-year old triplets can be trying for anyone, but even more so when their father is Sherlock Holmes.  A fluffy, brief interlude in the life of John Watson, guide and omega to alpha sentinel Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brief Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Mich for her beta of this story. You're the greatest, honey! 
> 
> If you've not read the first two stories, [Secrets and Revelations](http://archiveofourown.org/works/548271/) and [Consequences and Repercussions](http://archiveofourown.org/works/627322/), this one won't make much sense. 
> 
> This is a continuation of a fusion of The Sentinel, combined with Alpha/Omega dynamics loosely based on a Sherlock/John sentinel/guide universe similar to Velvet Mace's AU "Chameleon" and a bunch of Alpha/Omega fan fics. So it's a bit of a mish-mash. Hope you enjoy and don't forget to feed the author if you liked it! Every kudo and comment is appreciated very much. :-)

“Tate Michael Watson-Holmes! That pair of pants had best come off your head and go back on your bum where it belongs! Do you want to stay home with Nana and miss the party? I thought not.” Crossing his arms across his chest and over his very pregnant belly, John’s eyes narrowed dangerously at his second son. He watched in satisfaction as the offending pants were whipped off the auburn curls faster than the speed of light. Three year old Tate balanced on one foot awkwardly, stepped into the pants and pulled them up, though they were now on backwards.

Shoulders sagging, John sighed, rolled his eyes in exasperation and knelt awkwardly beside his son to help the boy put the pants on properly. “Why did you do that? Nana had you all dressed and then you go and do this. Where are your trousers? You know they’re new. Please try to look nice for your great grand-maman. It’s her birthday today and you promised to behave.”

Tate leaned into John and buried his face in his father’s neck, looking upset. “I’m sorry, Da. I thought it would make you laugh. You’re not happy any more.”

Sighing again, John took his son into his arms and held him tight. It was a curse and a joy to have triplet geniuses and it certainly kept both John and Sherlock on their toes. But his kids could be amazingly emotionally perceptive at the worst times. It was astounding how much they understood at such a young age, and Tate was very sensitive and a deep thinker. When they were born, John had promised he’d never lie to them about anything and he wasn’t about to start now.

“I’m very happy, Tate. I’ve got you, Kellen, Fabienne and Papa to love. I’m the happiest omega in the world, I promise you. It’s just that there’s a lot to do right now before the babies come, I’m tired and your Papa is away on a case. So I’m not laughing as much but it doesn’t mean I don’t love you or that I’m unhappy.”

The young boy cuddled closer to John and nodded wisely. “Papa being gone always makes you a Grumpy Gus. That’s what Nana says anyway.”

Chuckling, John hugged his son tighter and gave his auburn curls a kiss. “See, you’ve got me laughing now. Well done, you! Now you need to get dressed for the party. Your Grandmother Holmes is picking you up in half an hour and after the party, you’ll all get to stay with her for the next few days! Isn’t that exciting?”

Still looking worried, Tate put a hand on John’s swollen belly. The twins were very active that morning, and it always fascinated the kids to feel their movements. “Does it hurt when they kick?”

Smiling fondly, John shook his head. “No, luv. It just feels a bit odd sometimes but it doesn’t really hurt.” He took the boy’s hand, and moved it to where one of the babies was kicking hard. “See? He or she is just moving around inside and stretching. They’re growing bigger every day. Soon they’ll be too big to stay inside, and will come out to meet you.”

The little boy frowned and looked up at John sadly. The bond John shared with his son indicated the boy was still distressed. “Then we’ll have two new babies to look after, right?”

Something was upsetting Tate, so John spoke very gently, trying to puzzle out what it was. "Yes, sweetheart. You'll have two brothers or two sisters. Or maybe there will be one of each. We talked about this, remember?”

Head hanging, Tate nodded slowly, and shifted from one foot to another. “I remember, Da.” He looked up at John, worry and sadness in his expression. “So the twins will be your babies then, won’t they?”

"What do you mean, luv?” John felt wrong footed and confused, feeling like he kept missing the point of the conversation.

Pale blue eyes wet, Tate sniffed. "So, when they come out to live with us, I won’t be your baby any more?”

Oh, so that was the problem.

John swept Tate into his arms and up into the air, despite being almost eight months along. “Of course you’re my baby, luv. No matter what, you’ll always be my baby! We’ll just have two more babies to love.”

It was what the boy needed to hear, and he clung tightly to John. The bond they shared radiated relief and joy, and John laughed in delight. Even though it was much too early to truly tell, by the strength of his projected emotions, John once again speculated that Tate was probably going to be an omega guide. He wasn't as powerful as Fabienne, but he could make himself understood easily. John used his own empathy to express his deep love for his youngest son, and the child melted happily against him.

After a few moments, he set Tate on his feet. “You did it again, luv! You are so very good at making me laugh. Now go find your trousers and get dressed. Your great grand-maman is looking forward to seeing you, and Monique has got cake and ice cream waiting for you.”

Eyes sparkling with happiness, Tate ran for the room he shared with his siblings, and disappeared to finally get dressed.

John sagged into his chair, and sighed a third time. Raising triplets was tough work, and now he was making twins. How was this his life now? Rubbing his belly, John closed his eyes, and tried to relax. It was still morning, and he felt as he’d been hit by a lorry. Tate had been right; John’s temper was shorter than usual. Sherlock was away on a serial killer case in Manchester that had turned out to be very complex, and the detective had been in seventh heaven tracking down the clever murderer.

John had also been deeply involved in the case from the beginning, and had spent many hours going through a multitude of lists and records, finally pinpointing the final clue that had given Sherlock all he’d needed to identify the killer. It was now down to the Manchester police to find the man, and it was only a matter of time before they caught him. All John cared about was that Sherlock was finally free to come home.

In the early stages of pregnancy, it was risky for an expectant omega to be away from his or her alpha for any length of time, but the danger of miscarriage was long past for John. It had been three weeks already and John missed Sherlock so much that he literally ached. Thinking ahead, John had kept various garments sealed in plastic bags so he would have access to Sherlock’s scent whenever he needed to soothe himself. In addition, John spoke to him every day concerning the case, and Sherlock did Skype every night to talk to the children before bed, but his absence was taking a toll on everyone in the family. Now, after so long away, Sherlock was finally on his way home to attend Grand-maman’s 85th birthday party and reunite with the rest of his family.

Fabienne Holmes had moved to London with Monique the year the triplets were born, and though she visited her house in France occasionally, home was now wherever her beloved great-grandbabies were. John smiled at the thought knowing how truly fortunate he was to have so many amazing people to help and support him with the triplets. There was no way he would have survived that first year without his now rather large, extended family. In addition to his family and friends like Peggy Warden and Greg Lestrade, he and Sherlock had been incredibly fortunate to find a nanny and tutor for the kids. Despite being recommended by Mycroft, Amy Bradshaw had been a perfect addition to the household. She had studied early childhood development in University with an emphasis on child geniuses. And there were three in the house. Or four, if you included Sherlock as a big child, which John happily did most of the time.

As he sat resting with his eyes closed, John heard some shuffling and slowly cracked open an eye. Kellen and Fabienne were staring at him from behind the door to the other half of the flat, looking tentative. To see those two look hesitant about anything was no doubt a precursor to universal chaos and bloodshed, but he couldn’t help smiling and motioning to them to come into the room. They both walked slowly over, each with a piece of paper clutched tightly in their hands.

Sighing, John realised that Mrs Hudson had been responsible for dressing them for the party, which meant they were wearing the clothing they wanted, and not what John had picked out for them. He decided to let it go because he had to choose his battles wisely with these two. Fabienne’s abundant strawberry blonde curls had been pulled away from her face with tiny, sparkling snap barrettes and she wore her favourite pair of black and white polka-dot dungarees, a green tee shirt and white converse trainers. Her dark blue eyes, so similar to John's, were huge as she cautiously led her older brother toward John, who tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile at the sight.

Kellen’s pale blue eyes—completely identical to Sherlock’s—were equally as wide as Fabienne’s, and he was wearing his favourite black suit with the plum coloured shirt, which was a miniature replica of one of Sherlock’s. The fact that Kellen knew it was John’s favourite outfit surely had absolutely nothing to do with Kellen’s choice. His long black curls were a riot that could never be contained since the child was practically a clone of his sire. And just like his father, Kellen always tried to make John happy, even as he was simultaneously doing his best to manipulate him and drive him round the twist.

Both children carefully crawled up onto John’s lap and fitted themselves in on either side of his swollen belly, cuddling with him as he wrapped one arm around each child. It was a tight fit, but John loved being close to his children. He held them tightly and kissed their curls, basking in their love for him, and he shamelessly used his empathy to express his adoration of them.

After a few moments, Kellen silently handed John the piece of paper he’d been holding. As John smoothed out the crumples, he couldn’t help but laugh out loud when he saw it was a hastily drawn picture of the entire family with John as the centre of the image. His belly took up most of the paper and the twins inside were represented as two strange red squiggles. Everyone else was crammed into the picture at the far edges behind John. In the remaining space, crimson hearts were drawn all around them all, but the best part was that the hearts were as anatomically correct as a genius three year old could manage. Small drops of blood were spouting out of the truncated arteries in a few of them for good measure. He gave Kellen a kiss in praise for the gruesome picture. Sherlock was going to love it.

Fabienne then proudly handed John her masterpiece, and he couldn’t help but grin. She considered herself the true artist of the family. Her painting was an abstract, colourful mess with glitter liberally scattered around. Since the glue wasn’t dry yet, most of the glitter was falling into his lap, but he honestly didn’t mind. There were some unidentifiable organic things scattered in amongst the glitter, but he was just grateful she’d not attached body parts to it, as well. As he thanked her with a kiss, John tried not to think of the drawing she’d done for him a few months earlier where she’d carefully traced both her hands and had then glued actual human fingernails to each finger. Sherlock had never divulged where she’d got them, and John was pretty sure he didn’t want to know.

Setting aside the drawings, he sat back and got their attention. “Thank you, my loves. These are indeed beautiful and I love them both. Papa will love them too."

Both children smiled and seemed to relax in relief. Smiling lovingly at them and kissing their curls, he continued. "Now tell me. Who do you need to apologise to this time?” John knew his children very well, and waited expectantly for an answer.

Fabienne and Kellen tensed up and glanced at each other in horror. Their expressions then turned sour as they confessed. “Caitlin and her mum.”

With a singsong tone, John asked mildly, “And why do we have to apologise to Caitlin and her mum?”

Both children’s chins went up and two identical lower lips stubbornly pouted. Then Kellen explained disdainfully. “Caitlin told us her mum said the moon was made of green cheese. That’s clearly not possible and we explained why, but then Caitlin started to cry, and then her mum got mad when she came to take her home.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose, and tried not to laugh. “I can’t believe that’s all you said. You’d best tell me everything now, or I’ll have to get the story from Caitlin’s mum.”

The two exchanged narrow eyed looks again, so Fabienne took up the narration. Her tone was very cross as she added her bit. “Caitlin is two years older than we are and she believed what her mum said, so I told her she was an idiot. She cried some more and her mum told us we were wrong to say that, but then I told Caitlin’s mum that she was also an idiot for telling Caitlin lies.”

Kellen protested as John blinked at them in disbelief. “We shouldn't have to say we’re sorry. You said telling lies was wrong.”

Oh god. John just hoped that Caitlin’s mom wasn’t really an idiot. He took a deep breath and breathed out slowly. "Look, Kellen, Fabienne. It is never okay to call someone an idiot. I don't care what they said.”

Before he could finish, Kellen piped up, looking stricken. “Even if it’s true that they’re an idiot? Because Caitlin and her mum are if they really believe the moon is made of green cheese. Besides, Papa calls everyone an idiot. Even you.”

John was going to throttle Sherlock at the next available opportunity. Closing his eyes, John felt a migraine start up as he spoke slowly through clenched teeth. “We are not talking about your Papa right now. The truth is, Caitlin’s mum doesn’t really believe the moon is made of green cheese. Saying the moon is made of green cheese is a metaphor for gullibility, and has been used in fables and stories for centuries. It's a popular theme in children's literature. No doubt Caitlin's mum read her a story or maybe she showed Caitlin that Wallace and Gromit film you both like so much and she just misunderstood. So I’m going to ring Caitlin’s mum and you’re both going to say you’re sorry you called her and Caitlin idiots. Understood?”

Both children quailed slightly at John's firm tone. They then looked at each other, and then at John with identical rebellious expressions and finally capitulated. “Yes, Da. We’ll say we’re sorry for calling her an idiot, even though she is one for not understanding the difference between a metaphor and reality.”

Eye twitching, John pulled out his mobile and began dialling whilst both children glowered at him with expressions that were eerily similar to their sire's. These two children would probably team up with Mycroft and take over the world without even trying and here John was soon having two more? Christ almighty, how was this his life again?

Ringing off after the children had made their unenthusiastic and grudging apologies to Caitlin’s angry mum, John sent them off to clean their teeth before they left for the party. One more crisis averted, and it was time for Violet to pick up the children. Thankfully, the bell rang and Mrs Hudson followed Sherlock’s mother up the stairs so she could help hunt down and herd the triplets on their way.

John was still careful around Violet. She’d thawed toward John, especially since the children had been born, but she could still behave badly on occasion. But John knew she was completely devoted to the children and they adored her, so he put up with her occasional slips.

John greeted Violet and Mrs Hudson warmly, and groaned as he got to his feet, but he needed to be up and move around or his feet would start to swell. They all went in search of his children, who were huddled in their room beneath an elaborate blanket fort that hadn't been there an hour earlier and somehow took up much of the room. Finally, between all three adults, the triplets were rounded up, clean, dressed and ready to head out. Wearily, John walked Violet and Mrs Hudson to the door of the flat.

“I’ll be over to the house later. Sherlock said he’d be home sometime this afternoon, so once he’s back we’ll come over for the party.”

Looking down at the three cherubic, smiling faces turned up toward him, he arched a brow and narrowed his eyes dangerously at them. They remained utterly unaffected by any unvoiced threats, and gazed back innocently, because they knew John was a complete and total pushover.

“Now all of you behave for your grandmother Holmes and your granny Hudson, and do as they say. Do you understand me? They’re taking you to lunch, and then to your great grand-maman’s house for the birthday party.”

A choir of innocent voices chirped up. “Yes, Da. We’ll be good.”

Leaning down with an effort, he gave them each a kiss. “Fine. Then I’ll be seeing you soon, and I’ll be bringing your Papa with me.”

The kids cheered and jumped up and down with excitement. John tried to look stern, yet he couldn’t help but grin happily at their enthusiasm. “Okay! Off with you now. And remember--behave yourselves!”

They waved gleefully at John as they trooped off down the stairs and out to the street where Violet had a chauffeured saloon waiting to take them on their outing. Their bags for their short visit with their grandmother had been packed and brought downstairs earlier. No doubt they’d already been loaded into the boot by the chauffeur.

Standing at the window, John waved at his children, and watched the vehicle pull away from the kerb with a guilty sigh of relief. A few days alone with Sherlock! Soon the house would be empty for the first time in what seemed like years. The nanny was away visiting her family, and John’s mum was going to be spending some time with Harry and Clara since they’d recently welcomed a second daughter into their family. Jenny had five grandchildren now, with two more on the way. Turning back into the flat, John began to straighten up a few things and check once more to make sure he had Sherlock’s favourite foods and tea in.

He knew he was being obsessive, but John was so looking forward to seeing his bond mate. It had been much too long since they’d been together, and he needed Sherlock like he required oxygen to breathe. The case they'd just finished had been challenging and difficult, so John was extremely glad it was done. There were just a few more hours to go, and he’d be able to hold Sherlock in his arms again. Wandering into the bedroom, John lay down on the bed, and put his feet up to rest. He rolled over onto his side since it was pretty much the only position that was comfortable since the babies had got so big. There wasn’t much time before they would arrive, and he couldn't wait to meet them.

Resting one arm around his belly, John sent his empathy out to surround the children. He’d thought about not using it during this pregnancy, but John had missed being able to commune with his children in such an intimate way. He’d done it with his triplets from the time he’d known of their existence, and they hadn’t suffered any adverse affects, despite the warnings he’d found in the ancient manuscripts in the Tower. So, as he did every day, John allowed his empathy to enfold and soothe the twins, and received their unformed thoughts and feelings in return. John sent his love for them and felt it come back redoubled. It was one of the things he’d enjoyed so much about being pregnant and he basked in the feelings of love and comfort.

John lay on the bed resting and heard his Mum call out that she was leaving, and then heard the faint sounds of her footsteps going out the front door of the other flat and down to her taxi. She knew where he was and hadn’t expected him to respond, which was one of the things he loved and appreciated about her the most. She never intruded or interfered with his life with Sherlock unless he asked. Jenny had been an amazing help with the triplets and was planning to be there for John when the twins arrived. Again, John counted his blessings. There was no way he and Sherlock could have raised the triplets without his Mum, Mrs Hudson or Violet, for that matter.

The triplets had been only six months old when he'd unexpectedly gone into heat. To his everlasting gratitude, all three of the women had taken over and kept the household afloat until the heat had passed. Thankfully, John hadn’t conceived during that heat or the next two. It wasn’t until the triplets were almost two years old that John had conceived again. And for his sins, he had a multiple pregnancy once more.

Dr Fulton had smirked and said at least he’d managed one less instead of one more this time around. John hadn't thought the possibility of having four babies at once was very funny, but David had laughed hard at his own joke, so John simply attributed it to some kind of obscure obstetrical humour and bravely ignored the doctor. Things had progressed well and at 35 weeks, the babies were healthy and everything was right on schedule. Twins were often delivered by 36 weeks, but John was hoping to go at least to 37. Dr Fulton was optimistic and would be keeping a close eye on John for the next few weeks, which was fine by him.

Finally John's headache began to abate and he began to relax and drift off into a light doze as the babies settled down. It was going to be a busy day and John needed to rest before Sherlock arrived home. Following Sherlock on complicated cases, not to mention wrangling three baby geniuses every day, kept John in excellent shape, but right now he got tired very quickly.

As his sleep deepened, John began to dream that Sherlock had finally come home and his alpha's scent filled up his aching chest with relief and happiness. Strong and loving arms slid carefully around him and held him close. John smiled in his sleep as he happily basked in the warmth from his bond mate's body pressed against his back. The extreme stress he'd been experiencing for the last weeks evaporated quickly and his entire body relaxed in total bliss. When a soft kiss actually landed on the shell of his ear, John startled awake to find that what he'd thought he'd dreamed was true. Sherlock had arrived home and was holding John!

It felt like Christmas had come months early and John was thrilled. With a gasp he turned in Sherlock's arms as far as he could do, blinking sleepily up at him. John could barely stop the happy grin that threatened to split his face in half and instead pretended to be angry.

"Oi! What are you doing here? I was sleeping!" At Sherlock's peeved expression, John could no longer hold back his grin and awkwardly reached up to touch Sherlock as best he could do. "Despite the fact you're a git, I'm glad to see you."

Sherlock huffed at him, kissed him soundly and then buried his face in John's neck. "Well, it's entirely your fault that I'm back early. After all, you were the one who saw that obscure clue that I'd missed and gave me the information I needed to decipher it. Also, I missed you and had some supporting evidence that perhaps you missed me, as well. It appears that I was erroneous in my deduction. I can always go back to Manchester to finish up the paperwork, you know."

As quickly as he was able, John heaved his body around with a grunt to face his bond mate and grabbed at Sherlock's lapels. "Don't you dare leave if you want to live through the rest of this day. I am a highly trained soldier, you know. Come here, you berk."

Sherlock snickered at John's bogus threats and tightened his arms around his shoulders. "Yes, yes, I know. You were tutored by the Queen herself on how to kill a man 99 ways with a biro. Rest assured, I'm suitably terrified."

It was John's turn to laugh and then bury his face in Sherlock's neck. Gratefully, John breathed in his alpha's scent and relaxed even further. Bliss didn't even begin to describe what he was feeling. Impulsively he projected his happy emotions outward and heard a gasp from Sherlock. Sensing John's contentment, the babies practically purred when Sherlock's arms tightened even more. The strong emotions they were all experiencing seemed to echo around the room for a few moments, then gradually evened out and slowly dissipated.

"Welcome home, Sherlock. I've missed you so much." John sighed in happiness as Sherlock kissed his forehead.

It wasn't often that Sherlock allowed his tone to express any significant sentiment, but now his voice shook with his strong emotions. "I'm so very glad to be home, John. You know I hate being away from you and the children."

"I know, Sherlock. If the babies weren't due to arrive soon, I'd have been beside you every step of the way."

Sherlock huffed again. "At the risk of sounding mawkish, you belong by my side. This last case was exceedingly difficult and was unnecessarily so because of your absence. I work much better with you there and hate being without you. Because of that, I've decided that I won't accept another case until you are able to join me in the field again. Lestrade has been informed of this and he'll spread the word to the others."

Pulling back far enough to look into his bond mate's pale eyes, John frowned. "Are you sure, luv? It might be some time before I can get back to work with you."

"I don't care. I need to be with you and the children. This last case simply confirmed it. We've not been separated for this length of time since the triplets were born and I found that I didn't care for it. If I'm not working for the next few months, I can help you with the twins and also spend more time with the triplets. I've worked out numerous experiments we can perform that will expand on their understanding of science and forensics."

Eyes bright with excitement, Sherlock glanced down and noticed that John was looking sceptical. Confusion briefly flitted across his face and then he frowned. "What are you objecting to?"

Shaking his head, John laughed. "The idea of you spending more time tutoring our children in science is just asking for trouble. If I didn't know I'd just be wasting my breath, I'd tell you not to dissect disgusting things in the kitchen or teach them to blow shit up. But I do know better. I'm fully aware that our children, because of their Holmes DNA, will cause deliberate destruction and mayhem wherever they go. I'd just like them to figure out how to do it without your help. That way, I might be able to avoid going barking for just a bit longer."

As he thought about John's statement, Sherlock looked surprised, and then he began to frown, clearly insulted at what John was suggesting. As John watched the fleeting expressions of outrage and indignation flit across Sherlock's face, his empathy told him that, as usual, Sherlock didn't understand what could possibly be wrong with what he was planning to do with the kids.

So before Sherlock could even open his mouth to object, John interrupted. It was a losing battle and he was tired. Putting his head back down on the pillow and cuddling up to Sherlock, he reluctantly nodded. "Fine, it's fine. Whatever you want to do, I'm certain the kids will be thrilled to spend time with you. And also thrilled to learn how to blow more shit up."

Tightening his grip on John and stroking gently down his back, Sherlock's tone was totally smug. "You know you love it, so stop whinging."

John sighed and snuggled closer. "Yes, you are right. I do love it that you're trying to drive me completely mental. So, change of subject. Do you really have to go back to do paperwork? And did the Manchester police finally get their serial killer?"

There was a significant silence from Sherlock and it was again John's turn to frown. Glancing up at his bond mate, John saw an expression of disgust on Sherlock face when he finally spoke.

"The paperwork is mostly finished. I can do the rest and email it. And no, unfortunately they've not found the killer yet. I had been assured the police had him, which is why I decided to come home. Somehow he managed to escape their net. However, the Manchester police in charge are not total morons, so I'm confident that they'll catch him soon."

"Huh. That's certainly high praise, coming from you. I'm sure you're right and that they will catch him soon. The news media must have his picture plastered over everything by now." John wasn't really worried, but it meant that Sherlock might have to go back to Manchester if the man wasn't caught quickly.

Sherlock hummed in agreement, and then settled down to hold John close. "Don't worry about it, John. They'll have him behind bars before you know it. In the meantime, you and the babies need to rest. Grand-maman's party will be taxing for you, but then we'll have a few days to ourselves to rest and catch up without the children to worry about."

That sounded like heaven and John smiled happily. Now that Sherlock was back, John wanted to hold his bond mate tight and never allow him to leave ever again. He knew it was unrealistic and unreasonable, but he wasn't feeling very rational at the moment. Instead, he held onto Sherlock tighter and relaxed into the feelings of safety and contentment now that Sherlock was home. This was indeed his life, and for all the madness associated with being bonded to a Holmes and raising their children, he couldn't imagine wanting to be anywhere else.

The end....


End file.
